How It Happened
by Lin-ZB
Summary: An exploration of what made Dahlia Hawthorne the demoness we know in Trials and Tribulations. Naturally there are spoilers
1. Where It All Began

Depending on whom you asked, it could have started any number of places. Ask Valerie, and she'd say it began when her mother was smitten by who she says is "an unfaithful, smarmy, vile excuse for a man." Ask Dahlia, and she'd say it was a few weeks later, when she found herself separated from her twin sister, if, indeed, she would tell you anything at all. And if you had the guts to ask Morgan herself, she'd say it was when her younger sister gained the master's seat instead of her. Although, if you traced the tragedy back as far as you can, it would probably have resulted from the splitting of the Fey clan into the main and branch families. But that was a long, long time ago.

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"Dahlia, Iris, we're leaving."

The shy twins clutched at each other's hands, looking uncertainly between their furious mother and their rapidly retreating father. Iris, the more sensitive of the two, had tears welling up in her eyes. Dahlia was on the verge of tears herself, but remained under control. She bit her upper lip and looked one last time at both of her parents, then at her sister's eyes, glittering with tears.

Even though she was only six, Dahlia was able to analyze their situation, albeit simplistically. She creased her pale brow, drawing delicate eyebrows close together.

Mama wanted them to be great mediums, but neither of them had much power to speak of. Papa was going to marry another lady, presumably rich. So going with Papa would be better for them, personally, but then, Papa didn't love them as much. Mama always spent time with them, training and feeding and dressing them even. It seemed like Papa only wanted them to come because he didn't want Mama to have them.

Dahlia raised her head, deep red hair flashing in the light. She looked back at her mother, desperately searching for some reason to do _something_. But all she saw was white-hot rage in her eyes. With a muffled squeak she grabbed Iris's hand even more tightly and ran after her Papa, trying not to cry.

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The car ride was scary, tense, and made it all the harder to keep from crying. Both girls had heard their parents arguing deep into the night, often saying things that they would have reprimanded the twins for saying. There were also instances of cold politeness, when the air around their parents seemed about to crackle from the tension between them. More than once, the twins had fled their family common room to seek the escape of their aunt's manor. They liked it better over there, and even though their Mama hated Auntie Misty, she was nice. Plus, Mystic Mia was loads of fun to play with, even though the nine-year-old was almost always busy with _her_ acolyte training. At any rate, the Manor was a good place for them to weather their parent's arguments.

They longed for that escape now, trapped in the back seat of their Papa's car with no option but to wait. Iris, who had always been the more timid of the two, leaned over to whisper in Dahlia's ear.

"We're not going back, are we?" Her voice was choked and frightened, and it was difficult to hear through her suppressed sobs.

"N-no, prob'ly not," Dahlia whispered back, mirroring her twin's distraught expression.

They tried to scoot closer together, but the seat belts held them apart. So they just held hands all the more tightly, trying to convey some measure of comfort.

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What felt like hours later, they pulled up to a temple. The twins looked curiously at each other, then out the window to get a better look at the place. It reminded them vaguely of home, only much colder. Snow covered every inch, punctuated by a track of footprints leading from the main gate over to a bridge in the distance. Their observation was cut off by their father's brisk voice.

"Girls, get out of the car."

They obliged, unbuckling the seat belts and hopping out of the car and onto the snow. Neither girl was dressed for the cold, however, so with giggles, they latched onto one another for warmth.

"Stop that!" their father ordered, and twin pairs of hands dropped soberly to their sides. "Very good. Now, what would you say to living here?" He had crouched down to look them in the eye, making the twins unconsciously step back. Dahlia responded first.

"No!" she blurted out. "Er, well, it's cold…And it feels lonely…"

She ducked her head and glanced at her father from beneath her red tresses.

"Very well," he said, standing suddenly. "Iris, come with me."

The dark haired twin took his hand meekly and followed him as he led her toward the temple gate. Dahlia watched them go, wondering if she was going to be punished, or if she was receiving it right now.

A few minutes after her father and Iris had gone through the gate, her father returned. He was alone. Before Dahlia could even open her mouth to ask, she was ordered into the car.

"But Iris!"

"Forget about her. Pretend she no longer exists."

Eyes wide with shock, Dahlia began to run back to the temple. Her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket when her father grabbed it, causing her to fall into the cold, cold snow.

"Iris!" she screamed desperately. "He's gonna leave without you! Come quick!"

But even if Iris had heard, Dahlia was thrown into the car and the doors were locked. A split second later, the engine revved up and the car was speeding away from the temple. A tearful six-year-old beat on the windows to no avail, her heartbroken cries muffled by the glass and metal.

"Why daddy? She's my twin sister!"

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The meeting with "her new mommy" was disastrous. The drive had been long enough that Dahlia's tears had dried and she realized exactly what had happened. Iris had been left at some temple somewhere by their own father, and now Dahlia was supposed to just accept her new family. For the first time, she began to understand that her father was not a good person, and would not protect her. Well, fine.

She refused to speak to the woman standing in front of her father, and wouldn't talk to him either. When the lady tried to take her hand, Dahlia slapped it away. Eventually the adults got frustrated and left her with the woman's daughter to "loosen her up."

The red-haired girl stood defiantly, arms crossed, in front of the older, black-haired girl.

"So, that's your daddy?" the older girl, who had been introduced as Valerie, asked.

"Yes," Dahlia replied shortly. "Do you think he's a bad man?"

Valerie cocked her head to one side and pretended to think.

"Yeah," she said spitefully.

"Good," Dahlia replied. "We can be friends then." She held out her hand. Valerie took it, although she looked surprised.

"You…hate your daddy?"

"Yes. I hate him a lot."

"Why?"

"He left my twin sister at a cold place in the mountains all alone."

"Oh…I hate him because he's gonna marry my mommy, even though I already have a daddy. I don't want another one."

"He's gonna marry your mommy? Why?"

"I dunno. But that means we'll be related."

"Hmph. I don't want another sister." Dahlia re-crossed her arms, and glared at Valerie. The older girl shrugged.

"Mommy says I have to make the best of it."

"Well I want Iris back!" Dahlia's stare turned angry.

"What can I do about it?" Valerie demanded, getting angry herself.

"You can take your stupid mommy and just go away!" Dahlia yelled, bunching her hands into fists.

"How about you take your stupid daddy and go away?" Valerie yelled back. With a shriek, Dahlia reached back and punched Valerie as hard as she could in the stomach. Valerie retaliated, and the fight would only be broken up when the adults came back to check on them.


	2. Early Plotting

**Early Plotting**

Dahlia stalked out the back door, only breaking into a desperate run when she was sure the elegantly cut topiary would hide her. With the running came tears that had been determinedly and perfectly hidden until her father, her thrice-cursed _father_, couldn't hear her. Even now, the tears had to fight her tightly scrunched eyes and gritted teeth. But when she finally tripped over a root and landed face first in the dirt, the sobs came uncontrolled.

It had been four years, four miserable long years. She and Valerie had come to get along quite well, united in their hatred for their father. But there was an aching hole somewhere, a missing part of her, which simply couldn't be replaced. Today it had been worse than ever, and as she had blown out the candles on her birthday cake, a wave of misery for her missing twin overwhelmed her. She sat, staring fixedly at the frosted pastry, and wondered why something that was supposed to be so happy felt like poison seeping through her veins and stopping her heart.

Her father had noticed, of course, that every year around her birthday Dahlia got this way. It wasn't especially difficult to figure out why. "You're still thinking about that child?" he snapped over the table. "It's been four years, she is not part of your life anymore."

Dahlia's rich mahogany eyes suddenly locked with her father's. The careful mask she had schooled her face into over the years snapped, revealing the true emotions roiling beneath. Her eyes flashed an eerie red as her mouth twisted into a hateful sneer. She stood, knocking her chair over with an echoing crash, never allowing her burning gaze to waver from her father's face. With every passing second she seemed to get angrier until she seemed almost inhuman. When it seemed that her father would quail under her stare, she whirled and stalked out of the dining room, leaving utter silence in her wake.

She sought out the garden instinctively, knowing that no one really expected frail, pale little Dahlia to hide outside, especially not as the sun was setting. Her new dress was ruined now, torn from her fall and covered in dirt to boot. Not that she cared. It was a birthday present from her father, after all. She curled her thin arms around her head, hiding beneath her red curtain of hair. No one should see her like this. Not now, not ever.

"Dal? You there Dal?"

Instinctively, she sat up, trying to smooth herself out into a semblance of composure. Valerie rounded the corner, her bare feet patting the ground gently. She took one look at her adopted sister and fell at her side, enfolding her in a comforting hug. Dahlia began to cry all the harder, burying her face into Valerie's arms.

"I h-hate him Val," she sniffled through shuddering gasps. "I re-really, really hate him."

"I know Dal, I know," Valerie murmured, hugging her closer.

They remained like that for some time, until Dahlia got her breathing under control.

"Sorry Val," she said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to make you come out her in the dark." And dark it was. The sun had fallen behind the trees, casting dark shadows across the garden.

Valerie shrugged. "Well, after staring Dad down like that, I figured you were about to let loose. And besides," she winked and tapped Dahlia's nose. "You have no sense of direction, especially in the dark."

"True enough," the younger girl conceded. "But can we stay out here a while? I don't want to see Dad," she spat the word, "until he's good and worried."

This prompted a spiteful laugh from Valerie. "Sure. Actually, I wanted to tell you something. I managed to find out where Iris is from my mother…"

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A few days after her tenth birthday, Dahlia snuck down to the phone in the kitchen, heart in her throat, hoping that her parents wouldn't be back home anytime soon. She glanced down at the paper in her hand, checking the number for the millionth time. Valerie had helped her look it up online after they had crept back home on Dahlia's birthday. That had gone well, neither parent had noticed the girls had come back and were out looking for a long time while Dahlia and Valerie sat giggling up in Valerie's room.

But back to the task at hand. Dahlia grabbed the phone and dialed the number with a trembling finger.

"Hello, this is Hazakura Temple, how may I help you?" The voice was jovial, matronly. For some reason, Dahlia pictured a fat woman in a strange robe, barely tall enough to reach the phone.

"Ah," Dahlia cleared her throat, fighting down her nerves. "I'm looking for Iris, is she there?"

"Oh Iris!" The lady said. "Of course, she's right here." Then the phone was set down and Dahlia head footsteps as the woman presumably went to fetch Iris. She clenched her hands and swallowed. Oh god, this was it. Would Iris remember her? Would she even want to talk to her?

"H-hello?" A painfully shy, familiar voice came from the phone.

"Iris!" Dahlia yelled, completely forgetting any decorum she had planned on using.

"Wh-what, who is this?" Iris asked timidly.

"It's me, Dahlia!" the red-haired twin said desperately. "Do you remember?"

"Dahlia? Oh, oh is it really you? How did you find me?"

They talked for a long, long time. By the end of it both girls were in tears, partially mourning their separation and partially rejoicing at being able to finally talk after all those years. Perhaps they would have talked even longer, but eventually the Hawthorne's car pulled up the driveway.

"Father's home!" Dahlia whispered, panicked, into the phone. "I'll call you again when I can."

"Please do!" Iris whispered back, infected by her twin's anxiety.

"Bye."

"Bye."

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After that, Dahlia called Iris whenever she was able. She wasn't always able to get a hold of her, but she never let that stop her. One time, no one answered for two weeks and Dahlia was fraught with worry. What if Iris was hurt? Dead? Kidnapped by her father, who had found out about their contact and was determined to keep them apart? Then one day the lead nun, who was called "Bikini" of all things, picked up and apologized for the absence, but the phone lines had been knocked out in a bad snowstorm.

As the two sisters re-forged their bond, Dahlia came to despise her father more and more. In her mind, he was a demon; unfit even to live the lowliest of lives. But there was nothing she could do, aside from treating him as contemptuously as she possibly could. When that was no longer sufficient punishment, she began to cause trouble at school. Both of her parents found themselves in parent teacher conferences until they were on first name terms with the principal.

Finally, a private tutor was hired for her, which Dahlia found acceptable, as it cost her father a fair sum of money. On the first day of lessons, as Dahlia sized the young man up, a plan began to hatch in her mind. He was older, fairly handsome, and saw her every day. Perhaps there was some way she could use this man to exact full revenge on her no good father…


	3. The Plan Evolves

**Author's Note: Sorry for not updating this sucker in a while, every(if any)body. I'll try to be a bit more consistent from now on...But no promises!**

"Oh Terry, stop it! You're making me blush!"

Dahlia Hawthorne smiled prettily up at the older man, the picture of pleased embarrassment. And he completely bought it.

"But how can I, my angel? You're so beautiful!" He kissed her lightly on the cheek, making Dahlia laugh gently.

That is, he made the girl Dahlia was pretending to be laugh gently. In reality, the thirteen-year-old was getting quite sick of this man. He was hopelessly devoted to her and totally spineless. It was disgusting. But, she reminded herself, you need him to pull this off. Just a few more months, and he'll do whatever you say, no matter how morally wrong he sees it.

She continued to act sweeter than syrup, oozing charm and innocence from every pore. It was a trying exercise, this constant hiding of her demeanor, but she found that it was rather amusing. Imagine how surprised they all would be when they found out that darling little Dahlia was such an accomplished liar. She giggled again, making Terry look down at her fondly. For another half an hour she kept up her façade, just enough time for them to complete their walk around the Hawthorne's garden.

"Oh, Terry I think I have to go now," she commented, the picture of disappointed love, longing to linger just a little longer. Heh, her "tutor" would have congratulations for good use of alliteration.

Said tutor blinked down at her, looking characteristically puppy-ish and dependent. "Is it that soon already, darling?"

"I'm afraid it is," Dahlia murmured back, standing on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "See you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

The petite redhead turned and ran lightly off, hair and dress blowing in the wind like a picturesque schoolgirl out of an old romance movie.

The next day, Dahlia stood in front of her dresser, brushing out her hair. It was slightly tangled from sleeping, but still as lustrous as ever. She was briefly toying with the idea of cutting it off, because keeping so much hair so immaculate all the time was getting tiresome. But of course, short hair was much too rambunctious and wild, not nearly as trustworthy in appearance. Nonetheless, her hair needed to be braided.

"Valerie?" she called, placing the brush on the dresser. "Could you come do my hair?"

The older girl popped her head in. "Can't you do it yourself?" Not a complaint, just an honest question out of curiosity.

"Well yes, but you've always been better at it."

Val grinned, and the rest of her body followed her head inside the room. "Flattery will get you everywhere!" she said, almost singing. Sitting on the edge of Dahlia's bed, Val threaded out three locks of her sister's hair. "So, big day today, huh?"

"Yes, actually. I'm going to take Terry out to Dusky Bridge today, and then break the plan to him when we get back." Dahlia sought the newly accepted detective's gaze in the mirror. "You will help, correct?"

The dark haired woman sighed. She was worried; Dahlia seemed to be getting a little carried away with her scheme. Her desire for revenge was understandable, but it almost seemed that every little action Dahlia took was calculated for effect. But still, Val couldn't say no; she wanted their beloved father to suffer as well. And the only thing that son of a… well, the only thing he cared about was money. "Yeah Dal, I'll help."

Dahlia clapped her hands delightedly, once again the picture of childish glee. "Thank you."

Valerie secured the first braid and moved onto the second, making sure Dahlia's hair remained as smooth as possible. Both sisters knew that Terry was quite taken with the younger girl's silky tresses, and Dahlia needed to be at her most appealing if he was going to cooperate with the deceptive plan they had hatched.

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"So will you help me?"

Dahlia faced Terry, her eyes wide and serious, hair flapping in the cold wind, and looking oh-so-helpless and beautiful.

"Of course, darling! But, I never knew that your father was so horrible…"

"Well, he's a good actor," she replied, looking down demurely, seemingly saddened by the admission. Oh, how she would rather have spat the words into his face, but no matter.

"Poor angel," Terry cooed, taking her in his arms.

Only then, with her face hidden, did Dahlia allow a vengeful smile to creep upon her face, tinting her eyes that terrifying red that only appeared when her emotions were high. God, this man was too easy to manipulate.

Pushing herself away with a faked sniffle, Dahlia smiled up into her "boyfriend's" eyes. "Terry, can you make a promise with me?"

"Absolutely!"

Thinking about it, she might have seen his earnestness adorable, even attractive had she been a normal girl. But, of course, Dahlia Hawthorne knew now that she was not normal by any stretch of the imagination. Her abnormal qualities were what she was about to play on, what were about to clinch the deal on her plan.

"Come on!" she tugged at his hand, pulling him along the bridge until they were standing beneath a small tree. She abruptly turned to face the older man, assuming a serious yet oddly playful expression. "Terry, you love me, right?"

"More than life itself!" he replied vehemently.

Dahlia forced back a laugh. What an appropriate answer.

"Good," she said, satisfied. "So, if it even happens that we can't trust each other anymore, we have to drink this." She procured a necklace with a small bottle suspended from the point of a hollow heart shape. Clear liquid splashed quietly against the sides of the lightly tinted bottle. It was good that she had found this specific poison; it was lethal in very small doses, and fairly quick acting. Furthermore, it was tasteless, odorless, and colorless. She could use it virtually anywhere, on anyone. Of course, dearest Terry Fawles wasn't to know that.

"What's in there?" he asked, slightly suspicious.

"Oh, nothing dangerous," Dahlia responded coyly. "Just a little something to reunite us."

Terry's puzzled and concerned look eased. "If you say so."

"I do," Dahlia grinned childishly. "Now we have to bury it among the tree roots."

"And why do we have to do that?"

"Why, because it's our secret!"

He was suddenly asking questions. Dahlia kept her eyes from narrowing in suspicion, but she was starting to get mildly concerned. She needed a mindless puppet, not a human being. Humans could feel guilt; humans could potentially give away secrets. This was a problem that would have to be taken care of.


	4. The Devil Emerges

"Val, there's been a change of plan."

The dark haired woman looked up from her paperwork, blinking up at her stepsister. She'd been staring at black and white print for far to long, Dahlia's pinks and reds seemed awfully faded.

"And that is?" Secretly, Valerie hoped that Dahlia would call the whole thing off. She was starting to get slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation, especially since she was heading towards a promising career as a policewoman, of all things. But she didn't dare tell Dahlia that. The girl was pegging everything on her plan, it seemed. Not for the first time, Valerie wondered if this obsession with revenge was healthy.

"I want you to shoot at Terry when I have the jewel."

"Excuse me?" Valerie stared at the redhead in disbelief. "You want me to shoot him?"

"Well don't kill him, obviously," Dahlia replied, flipping her hair. "Just disable him. I'm cutting him out of the deal."

Valerie continued to stare, still somewhat shocked.

"Oh come on woman, it's not that difficult!" the younger girl snapped, her eyes flaring. "I don't want him getting part of the profit, because there's no way he'll be able to keep his trap shut."

"But, why shoot him?"

"So we can say that you were trying to save your poor, defenseless stepsister from the homicidal creep who had her hostage."

Still puzzled, Valerie shook her head. "But how does this accomplish anything?"

"When you shoot him, I'll jump off the bridge, and Iris will find me downstream. You will arrest Terry, and accuse him of murder. It's not uncommon for bodies to be lost in the river, so it'll be no issue if I don't show up again."

Valerie shook her head, a look of horrified comprehension dawning on her face. "Dal, Dal what is this? I can't just _shoot_ him! He's- god, he's more innocent than either of us!"

Dahlia crossed her arms and stared impatiently at her half sister. "Well, fine then. Don't shoot to kill, or even hit, if you don't want to. Just make sure that I can get off that bridge!" She had taken on a look of mad intensity, her eyes shining that ill-boding red again.

Suddenly, Valerie began to doubt the sanity of her adopted sister, just a little. The sinking pit in her stomach kicked in her self-preservation instincts, as if Dahlia was a hardened criminal! Little Dahlia, a criminal! But before Valerie had the time to scold herself for thinking such things, she had muttered her quiet assent to the plan.

Of course, once her word was given, it was brutally difficult to go back on it. And Valerie found that she couldn't.

Then all too soon, she was standing on a rickety bridge, her gun trained on a tree just over Mr. Fawles' shoulder.

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"That girl…Let her go!"

Dahlia smirked, pleased at how well her plan was going. The reassuring weight of the diamond dragged against her back, pulling her downward to the river. Just a little while longer, she told it, amused at the thought of the jewel as eager for the completion of the plan as she was.

"Shut up! C-come closer… And I kill her!"

Oh, sweet, dearest, moronic Terry. He literally could not hurt a fly. She felt his arm around her shoulder grip her in a pathetic attempt of comfort. He was confused and scared, stupid fool, but Dahlia had told him to actually pretend that he was a kidnapping villain, and so he was. And Valerie was going to hold up her end of the bargain right about-

"Sorry, but you're not going to get the chance…"

-now. Dahlia moved as soon as Terry's arm loosened around her; the man was utterly shocked at the gunshot. She placed her hands on the wire keeping her safely on the bridge. Almost as an afterthought, she turned her head and shot her "lover" a malicious grin. And then she threw herself into the river.

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**Author's Notes:**

**Gah! Anyone who still checks this, I'm sorry! I meant to start writing and posting chapters at a reasonable rate... Well, you see how that's worked**

**Anyway, this is officially on a sporadic update schedule, so don't hold your breath.  
**

**Fun fact: This chapter is exactly 666 words long.**


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